


Just like a Sunburn

by 69louis



Series: Scar and Leave Me [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Break Up, Cheating, Eventual Smut, Love Triangles, M/M, and by eventual i mean in the next part, idk - Freeform, tominshaw eventually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-30
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-24 22:00:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/945139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/69louis/pseuds/69louis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is done with his relationship with Harry months before it's finally dead in the ground.</p><p>Nick Grimshaw complicates everything in Louis' already annoyingly confusing life.</p><p>Harry doesn't really believe Louis will leave until he's already gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just like a Sunburn

Louis finds out that Harry is cheating on him with some bird from his job just after Christmas, just after his 22nd birthday actually. And for all of his bravado, all of his crowing about promises broken, for all of the dishes he's destroyed in a fit of rage, all of the holes punched into the apartment walls, it takes Louis until summer time to finally work up enough courage to leave for good, (or for bad, he's not really sure yet).

  
When he finally goes it's quiet. They'd both yelled themselves into silence over the last few months, worked themselves up to nothing more than bitter acquaintances who live under the same roof.

  
It's hot outside, sweltering in fact, much too hot for June in London, and it's hot between them, as Harry sits on the couch and stares at the wall, while Louis wrecks through the flat like a tornado packing his things. But it's not hot in the way that it used to be. Not barely able to keep hands off each other for long enough to get from the cab to the front door hot. Not screwing on the kitchen floor, and every other flat surface they could find, because they just couldn't get enough of each other hot. Not smoldering love that smokes up your vision and makes your tummy feel like a furnace hot, but hot like a sunburn. Prickly and persistent and uncomfortable.

  
Louis makes a point to pack everything, not wanting an excuse to have to go back to that apartment ever again. As far as he's concerned it's war land, a place that used to be his home but somehow became foreign and ugly in the battle that Harry and Louis had fought, and lost to keep their relationship alive. He's surprised at the fact that he can fit his whole life into just a couple of suitcases, surprised at how easy it is to detangle himself from the life he had with Harry, but he guesses that this was a long time coming. Knows that they've been working their way up to this for months, maybe even before Harry decided to cheat.

  
When his things are finally packed Louis hesitates for a second at the door, wonders if he should say something, but his throat is constricting and he's cried more than enough in front of Harry to last him a life time, so with one finale sweeping look around Louis shoulders his bags, sets the house key on the drawer next to the front door and walks away.

 

\--

Harry and Louis have been _HarryandLouis_ almost since the instant they met, but it takes months of pining and and general stupidity to make it actually count for something.

They meet in a dingy house party on campus when they're both freshmen in uni. Louis' had too much to drink, and Harry is the designated loser who drew the unlucky straw and is tasked with making sure all of his friends get back to their own dorms alright, so he's burdened with the memories, even now.

Louis is giggly and bright and funny, words slurred between sharp teeth, and out of pouty moist lips. He's a drama major, which Harry thinks is fitting because the first time he sees Louis he's standing on the coffee table in the middle of the party reenacting the sword fighting scene from Romeo and Juliette, beer in one hand and brandishing his other like he could do actual damage to his partner. Harry and Louis end up accidentally falling in to each other, or rather Louis loses balance on the table and Harry tries to pretend like he didn't push a couple of people out of the way so he could be there to catch him before he hit the ground. They end up talking for the rest of the night, tucked together on a beanbag chair just big enough for two in the corner of the party. Louis is all eyes and cheekbones and sharp wit, and Harry feels like he can't catch his breath, doesn't know if he even wants to because the pressure that settles onto his chest when Louis looks at him almost feels good.

After that they run into each other everywhere, and Louis feels like Harry _is_ everywhere, but he doesn't really mind because Harry's got big soulful eyes, and long arms that always seem to be reaching out for him, pulling him in. They dance around the 'just friends' thing for a while, pretend like their connection is normal, though they both know that it's not. 

They kiss for the first time in the snow, just before they both leave to go home for Christmas. Harry hands Louis a small box with a bow on the top, and beams "Wrapped it m'self." and Louis can't take it anymore, so before he can talk himself out of it he's on his toes and kissing Harry, and for the first time since they met being _HarryandLouis_ counts for something.

\--

Harry doesn't move for a long time after Louis packs his things and leaves without a word or a backwards glance. The silence is deafening, and he holds his breath until his pulse is hammering in his ears. 

A small piece of him expects to hear footsteps in the hallway outside their front door any minute, expects to hear the jingle of keys, and the rustling of denim as Louis shrugs off his jacket and toes out of his shoes, but there's nothing. The larger, more sane, part of him knows that Louis will never come home to him again, that this is not lovely boisterous Louis' home anymore, that that Louis has been long gone for months, that that Louis stopped being his when the love in his blue eyes was replaced with resentment.

Harry had held onto Louis for as long as he could. Pleaded and cried and apologized until his throat was raw, and his face was hot with tears, and at first it works. It's enough to get Louis to stay, to give him another chance, then suddenly it's not anymore.

Louis slowly becomes immune to the tears and the 'I'm sorrys', not swayed by any of it. Louis is no longer bluffing when he says he's going to leave. And Harry turns angry, feels the person he loves most slipping through his fingers and doesn't know how to make it stop, can't fathom the idea that Louis would actually leave, that Louis actually could. And it doesn't become real until it is.

Until Harry is sitting on the couch he and Louis had spent four hours in the department store picking, until he's staring at the living room wall that's painted the perfect shade of beige, the color Louis had insisted on, all by himself in absolute silence. No more fire, no more heat, just the weight on his chest that's never really gone away in all the time he's known Louis. Numb.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you like it, already have a bit of the next part written and it should be out soon. Comments are appreciated.


End file.
